


Elsewhere

by Cilliya



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Angst, Emotional Constipation, Fighting, Fluff, Gladiators, Injury, M/M, Slow Burn, elsewhere, more tags to come, summoners, tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cilliya/pseuds/Cilliya
Summary: Once every five years the island regions of earth unite to compete in the Voltron Summoner's Tournament. Summoners compete for fame and fortune by fighting monstrous gladiators.First time summoner Lance is hoping to win. However things never go as planned as Lance quickly discovers.





	1. 00 - Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys and girls,
> 
> This is gonna be a large work. I'll try update whenever possible.  
> If you think I need to put in any trigger warnings or raise the rating etc, I'm happy to, just let me know.
> 
> The fic will be Klance but in much later chapters there will be some implied/mentioned Shallura. I'll put it in the tags when we get to it.
> 
> Please comment, bookmark and kudos! <3  
> Thank you and enjoy!

The boy laid still, floating through the cold nothingness of elsewhere; a place where nothing lived nor died; a place where you simply existed. The boy curled himself into a tighter ball, trying to ignore the biting cold and darkness that extended around him. His world was infinite and empty. Pulling heavy eyelids open, he still sees only darkness, feels nothing but the bitter chill around him, hears nothing but his own steady breathing. There isn't anything to do when you’re in elsewhere; stuck between the limbo of the real world or nowhere at all. He presses his eyes closed and his mind begins to drift, like the haze that surrounds him. Thoughts and feelings linger around him, too far for him to reach yet just far enough to tease him of the things he's never had. However, he knows to wait. He knows he cannot do anything but wait, so he does, his body hanging weightlessly in the expanse of elsewhere, waiting for someone to say 'come here'. A feeling of warm blue slips into the back of his mind. Its presence soft yet forceful; something he had never felt before. It laps at the edges of his mind, calling to him, beckoning. The bright blue haze coaxing him closer, wrapping him in warmth that he never knew existed. It dimly pulses through his soul, each heartbeat spreading the warmth of that strange blue around his body. He shivers at the new feeling, stretching his mind out to grasp at the blue before it can pull away. Is this what he was waiting for?


	2. 01 - Away

The methodical thud of horse hooves meeting dirt and the gentle sway of a moving cart rocks Lance awake. Cold night air ruffles his brown hair and he lazily rubs his eyes open. From where he now sits in the back of an open horse drawn cart, Lance can see the chilling beauty of the open plains. His eyes fix on the tall snow capped mountain ridge that lines the horizon. The light from the almost full moon above them is streaking the valleys and peaks in a glittery silver of snow. Stars dust the sky around them, perfectly visible with barely a cloud in sight. "Woah," he breaths out quietly, careful not to wake the other boy still asleep beside him.

"Lance? You awake?" A voice calls from behind him.

"Yea," he replies, pulling himself up on wobbly feet and climbing to the front of the cart. "Hey Pidge." He takes a seat beside the girl and folds his arms comfortably across his chest.

"Hey," she acknowledges him with a quick nod. For a few minutes, they sit in a comfortable silence; at least as silent as it gets. The dull clopping of horse hooves and squeaky trundling of wooden cart wheels filling Lance's ears and echoing through his thoughts.

He tilts his head back to watch the stars again. He knows these constellations; knows the stories of them, he loves those stories. He used to sit on the beach, his family around him, one of his younger siblings sitting on his lap, or his mothers fingers running through his hair- they'd tell stories about the stars, about the glorious battles and love and bravery each of them represented. On clear nights like these he'd listen to the waves crashing over the beach, a mug of hot chocolate with melted caramel in his hands, head tilted back to watch the stars. Although he's miles away from home it's still under the same constellations he knew, the same ones his family would be watching. Maybe they'd be watching now. Probably even telling his favourite stories. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. He missed them so much. But he had to do this; he'd chosen to leave. He was going to become a Master Summoner. He would summon a great gladiator to fight for him on the field and win money and fame for him and his family, so that they could afford to keep their beautiful home.

That was Lance's plan anyway. He'd never summoned a gladiator before, he hadn't even been given an apprenticeship. That didn't matter though; he was determined to do this, to win for his family. But what if he failed? What if he couldn't summon a gladiator? Or he did it wrong? Lance's fists clenched, "What if I lose?" He speaks aloud not really intending for anyone to reply.

"Lance-" Pidge breaks his thoughts and he looks down from the sky towards her. "Lance you won't fail, okay. So stop thinking about it."

Lance grins at her, "So you think I'll do it?" He nudges her side with his elbow.

She slaps him away, rolling her eyes. "Yes Lance."

"Would you say that I'm the best Master Summoner you've met?" He makes sure to catch her eyes before he wiggles his eyebrows.

"I'm not gonna comment." She frowns and adjusts her glasses to sit more comfortably on her nose.

"Aww, come on Pidge- you know I'm the best. Come on say it,"

"No." She glares straight ahead, avoiding Lance's teasing smirk. "Here- I'm gonna go catch some sleep." She shoves a map into Lance's face, stepping back into the cart, leaving Lance to take the horses reins.

"Ugh- fine." He folds the map up and tucks it away, he didn't need a map there was only one path here. After a few seconds of jostling furs and bags in the back of the cart Pidge settles down and the cart falls into silence again.

Lance traces a finger over the wooden front of the cart, feeling the notches in the old planks, the cold metal of each nail. His fingers absently trace circles into the wood, repeating the summoning circles he'd been learning. The full moon would be tomorrow night, the perfect time to summon a powerful gladiator; that was a fact among summoners, that the full moon enhanced the connection between the physical world and elsewhere. A lot of new summoner would be taking the opportunity to summon gladiators. Lance just had to get the best though, which would mean he needed to create a perfect summoning circle. He'd spent his younger teen years training as an apothecary, along with his friends Pidge and Hunk, who both were asleep in the back of the cart. He had a large family in a huge house, and they needed money to support them. His apprenticeship as an apothecary hadn't brought them a lot of money and they struggled to pay for education for each of Lance's siblings. He'd decided a few months ago to try become a Master Summoner, he'd stay up late reading books on everything he could possibly need to know. His parents would join him to help him practise drawing the summoning circles, sometimes even his siblings would help out. His whole family had rallied behind him to help, but maybe it was going to be too much for a half trained apothecary.

At least Hunk and Pidge were now fully fledged apothecaries, but he was just in between; neither an apothecary nor a summoner. If he failed, what would be turn back to? He brushed the thought off and focused instead on the circle his fingers traced.

Hours passed and the sun began to breach the horizon. Their cart was headed towards the rising sun and the view from his seat of the stunning lilac fading into pink and smudged with orange was just as breathtaking as ever. The grassy plains around them was a withered brown, however the distant mountain range glittered in the early sunlight and Lance thought its beauty made up for the lack of grass.

Hunk woke up and Pidge soon after, the three of them managing to squeeze in on the front seat of the cart. Thankfully Lance hadn't managed to get them lost but Pidge was still grateful to be able to watch where they were going. Hunk had taken to practising summoning circles with Lance for what had been the millionth time that morning. As tired as Lance was the larger boy had insisted that there was no harm in more practise.

They recited spells and talked over the summoner tournament rules and just as they reached their ninth repeat of the summoning spell Pidge pulled the cart to a stop.

"-why'd we stop?" Lance interrupted his own spell chanting.

"Cause you two are driving me insane!" Pidge threw herself off the edge of the cart, stomping around to access the back, "stop the chanting or you’re not having lunch." She pulls out a few hastily paper wrapped sandwiches from one of the boxes and sits herself on the dry grass beside the cart. Hunk gives a shrug, leaving the cart and taking a seat beside Pidge. Lance's stomach growls and he joins them.

"This the last of the sandwiches?" Lance asks. "Yea," Pidge replies, handing one to him.

Hunk whines, "can we hurry up then? Cause I wanna get to the next town as quick as possible."

"We'll reach it before nightfall," Pidge mumbles through a mouthful. She scoffs her food, than stands, dusting off her pants. "I'd estimate around eight hours travel left. That'll hopefully give us enough time to set up and relax a bit before the full moon reaches its peak."

"Let's hope your right." Hunk smiles, hopping back in the front seat of the cart.

Lance spends the next few hours shifting uncomfortably in the afternoon heat, waves of apprehension and doubt rolling off him and giving the others chills. He finally decides to go sleep in the back of the cart. It takes him ages to find a comfortable place amongst the blankets and luggage and even then it takes longer to clear his mind of worry for what he'll have to do when he next wakes.

The evening cools off and the sun eventually sets, Lance misses the view cause his eyes are shut but he's definitely still awake. He feels the first cold chills of night air when Hunk adjusts the blankets around him. The larger boy takes a seat on a nearby crate and after a moment of listening to the sounds of the cart and horses hooves, he begins to hum. Hunk wasn't the most skilled at music, but he could keep a rhythm. The soft hum coming deep from his throat, almost like a lullaby of sorts. Lance focuses on the sound, lets his eyes grow heavy and his mind cloud over. He falls asleep and dreams of his family.

 

 ----

 

Lance's pulled from sleep when Hunk shakes him, "-come on buddy. Gotta get up." The carts stopped moving and the usual silence of their surroundings is now filled with throbbing music and laughter. Lance groggily sits up, rubbing his eyes. They were in a town. "Okay- grab your stuff cause Pidge has already found us a room." Hunk gestures to the old wooden inn beside them.

It must be about an hour or so before the full moons peak and the town was cast in a bright glow. Lance could easily read the name from the lopsided sign that hung over the two story buildings door. 'The Red Hunter' he snorted at the name. The place looked a little dilapidated but he trusted Pidge chose it for a good reason.

Taking a bag in with him, Lance noted the inside surroundings carefully. The ground level had a cobbled floor, huge wooden beams stretching up the walls to support a ceiling of wooden planks. There was a couple of dusty glass windows and a splintered wood stairway leading to the upper level. A counter was positioned between the two wooden pillars on the back wall and an old man sat behind it. Lance gave him a curt nod before leaping up the stairs, skipping every second one, to meet up with Pidge.

The upstairs was completely wooden planks, a long hall stretching the length of the building was dotted with numbered doors. There were no windows but an old lantern hung from the roof.

Lance found the only open door and after seeing Pidge bustling around inside he headed in. The room was a decent size. Their bags and boxes were building up in a pile on the far wall under the tiny window. The glass of the window was cracked and grey with layers of dust. There was an already lit fireplace in the wall on his right and to his left was a row of three wooden bed frames pressed against the wall. Lance supposed it would do.

He dropped his bag and headed back to the cart, grabbing a few more boxes and taking them inside. Hunk put the horses away in the inn's stables and left Pidge and Lance to set up the summoning circle. The two moved into the room next door, Pidge had purchased two rooms for them so they had enough floor space.

Lance sifted through the contents of each box, pulling out books, papers and paint. The room they were in was a mirrored version of their other room. Lance put out the fire on the left wall and helped Pidge push back the bed frames against the right. A quick look out the window gave him roughly half an hour till the full moons peak.

He hurriedly opened the paint and began to draw over the wooden floor boards. The paint was nothing special, in fact the type and colour of paint made no difference to the summoning, so Lance had chosen his favourite colour, blue. It was probably a bit of an expensive colour but this was a special occasion.

He covered the floor in sloppily draw shapes and symbols, each lining up within a large circle that's diameter expanded over almost the entire length of the floor. It took a while of concentrated work but Lance could feel the power of the full moon and he knew he still had time; the circle had to be perfect, so he wouldn't waste it.

Hunk returned and took a seat beside Pidge on the bed frames, taking to watching Lance in silence. A shiver of energy ran up Lance's spine and a scream followed by cheering erupted out across the street; someone had just summoned a gladiator.

"Okay, I think it's time." Lance tossed the paint aside, drawing out a dagger and skimming a quick eye over the open book beside him. Hunk nodded encouragingly at Lance and the taller boy stepped forwards to stand at the edge of the circle.

Lance began the chant. The full moons light reached through the window, dancing over the blue paint on the floor. The wooden room echoed his words back to him, the mix of ancient language and different tongues that formed the chant flowed easily from his mouth.

He slid the dagger blade across the palm of his hand, careful not to do any damage, but just enough to draw blood. The warm red liquid pooled in his palm, the cut stinging in open air.

Yet he continued to chant, ignoring the pain. He tilted his hand, letting the thick liquid slowly drip onto the blue paint. The first drop landed at his feet. Hitting the floor it glowed a brilliant blue. Each new drop filling the circle with a blue glow. The room growing brighter and brighter. He kept chanting, finishing the last line and beginning to repeat.

He repeated the first half and a shudder of energy surged up from the circle. Lance squeezed his cut hand, dripping the last few drops of his blood to the floor. It was now completely covered in blue light, each word that escaped from Lance's mouth making it glow brighter.

He was reaching the end; he was running out of words.

His eyes darted over to his friends. Why was nothing coming out of the circle? Once he finished he couldn't repeat the words again. Something had to come. Where was it? Why wasn't it working?

Both Hunk and Pidge looked as worried as Lance probably felt. He reached the last line; only eight words to go. Damn it! Where was it?!

Six words.

Five.

Four.

A thunderous crack split Lance's ears and his vision was pierced with white light. He stumbled, heart racing.

That was it! He'd done it! A dark wisp of shadow hung over the centre of his circle. It pulsed with his words and Lance finished the line. He was breathing heavily but a grin split across his face. A thumbs up from Hunk and he stepped forward with courage.

The wisp glowed, a deep red pulsing through the inky black. Lance extended a hand, his fingers feeling the cold of the wisps tendrils. The shadowy limbs wrapped around his fingers and he reached further into them to the centre of the shadow. His fingers brushed a solid shape, as cold as ice and yet as hot as blood. The wisp seemed to shiver at his touch. The room glowed white again and he pulled back. The floor beneath him gave way and Lance fell.

 

\----

 

Lance's ears were ringing with the deafening crash and his stomach dropped. "Lance?!" He heard both Hunk and Pidge scream. Lance groaned, pulling his eyes open. Did he pass out? He was pinned under a lot of debris but looking up through the clouds of dust he could see their wasn't too much damage, just a huge hole in the upstairs floor. He could hear Hunk calling for him from behind the edge were Pidge was leaning over trying to see.

"Lance?- you okay?" Her face filled with relief as Lance waved up at her.

"Um-" he wiggled, sliding himself out from under a wooden beam. The effort stabbing pain through his chest and sending his head spinning. He slowed his movements, eventually pulling himself out.

He stood on the uneven debris and closed his eyes, his hands pressing to either side of his temple to stop the throbbing. The sticky warmth of blood coated his fingers and he could feel it trickling down his cheek.

Wait- blood? His blood?! His eyes flew open and he traced a hand down his face.

Sure enough he could feel a gash across his cheek. "I'm fine," he called upwards, he probably wasn't fine but he had more important things on his mind, "is the gladiator up there?"

Pidge shook her head, a few loose planks cracked under her and she retreated back from the edge.

"Shit." Lance muttered, wiping the blood from his hands on his pants. His eyes scanned the debris. "They can't have gone already?" He questioned.

The planks shifted a few metres away from him and Lance jumped. "You bloody idiot!" A disgruntled voice yelled at him from under the dust.

Lance quickly clambered closer and began throwing away planks of wood to reveal a boy, not much smaller than himself, sitting in the rubble. Lance assumed he must have been another guest at the inn who happened to be in the room below them. His pale skin was scratched and bruised, smudges of blood over his skin and through his long black hair. He stopped a few feet from the strange new boy and scowled. "I'm not an idiot- the gladiator I just summoned broke the floor. But I can't find them?"

The boy simply met his eyes with a disbelieving scowl. "I am a gladiator."

Lance stepped back in surprise. Wasn't a gladiator supposed to be a powerful warrior? A huge beast? A monster? This was a boy with a mullet. "Wha- what? No you’re not!" He was scowling back at the still half buried boy.

"I am so!"

"Are not!"

"I am!"

"Oh yea! Prove it!" They sounded like bickering five year olds and Lance wanted to just get this over with and find his real gladiator.

"I will!" The dark haired boy pulled himself from the rubble. He staggered towards Lance and in response, Lance stepped backwards. "Stop moving!" The boy screamed.

Lance froze.

Dusty fingers reached towards him. Lance couldn't decide whether to flinch back or let the boy touch him, but his head was spinning too much and in a half hearted attempt to move away the boys hand caught his shoulder.

The steady hand rested softly on his shoulder and sent a shiver through his body. He could feel the warmth of fingers curling around the exposed skin and when the sensation was gone he almost missed it.

Lance tilted his head to look at his shoulder. Printed into the skin, glowing a faint red, was a rune.

It was almost like a lightning bolt, a little jagged in shape, but the rune hummed under his touch and the red glow grew to a brilliant violet as he rubbed a thumb tentatively over it.

"See I am a gladiator." The boy in front of Lance scowled.

"And this means..." Lance turned to look at the boy, folding his arms across his chest. "This means I'm your master?"

"You don't know!" The other boy let out a frustrated growl, throwing his hands up in the air. "So not only do you practically kill me with your summoning but I've got an idiot of an incompetent master!"

"Wait so this is my fault!" Lance uncrossed his arms, his hands balling into fists at his side. "I was supposed to summon a powerful gladiator! Not some grumpy little kid! There must be more to you. What can you do? Shape shift? Magic?"

The boy retracts at Lance's explosive words. He crosses his arms over his chest, tugging at the short sleeves of the black tee shirt he wore. “I'm human."

Lance shook his head. No, you’re not, please don’t be. Please don’t be. I didn’t go through all this work for a human. “No you’re not. You’re a gladiator, a monster. What sort of powers do you have?”

“I’m human.” He continued to insist. “I can use a sword,” He shrugged, turning away.

Oh great, a sword. “Anyone can use a sword!” Lance threw his arms up in the air, spinning on his heels to walk away. “This isn’t what I wanted. Just return to Elsewhere and leave me alone.” He reached up to the jagged shape on his shoulder. Its glow had dimmed and it now left only a faint scar like mark.

“Don’t!” The other boys hand shot out and he grabbed Lance’s sleeve stilling his hand before it could touch the mark. “Don’t send me back!”

“Why not? It’s where you belong, isn’t it?” Lance fought to shake him off his sleeve. “You don’t belong here. You’re not human, you’re a monster.”

“I’m not a monster!” The shout echoes throughout the dusty air and shakes the rubble beneath Lance’s feet. Lance drops his hand from the mark, tearing his arm away from the boy.

“Fine.” He stated, “But I am not your master.”


End file.
